Of Men and Boys
by classyblue
Summary: Proof that there is a little boy in every man, fighting to get out.


**A/N:** This my idea of an ancient food fight. Duck and hide under the table!

* * *

It started out innocently enough.

The last big battle had ended months ago and all of the work details had slowed down to a snail's pace. That left a lot of spare time for the Generals – too much spare time, as it turns out.

Hephaestion sat with the others in the dining hall after the morning meal. The conversation consisted of small talk mostly: a new foal's birth, the attributes of the new exotic dancer at the local pub... the usual "man" conversation.

Everyone was in a relaxed and lazy mood and trying to get up the energy to go start something constructive for the day.

Cassander, in his customary boisterous tone, was beginning one of his speeches. The ones that are loud, self-serving, and mostly full of hot air.

Suddenly, with uncanny accuracy, a grape hit him on the end of the nose. In midsentence, Cassander stopped talking and looked down at his nose, a look of total surprise on his face.

His crossed-eyed expression was enough to send the room into hysterical laughter.

Cassander, after he had recovered from his initial shock, sent one of his own grapes flying towards his assailant, hitting his target on the side of the head.

Not to be left out of the fun, several more grapes flew through the air from various directions. These were soon joined by other assorted foods not consumed during the meal.

Everyone was having a grand time trying their accuracy skills and doing their best to become smaller targets themselves.

The room was turning into a complete disaster and the occupants were covered in food, each one becoming a meal in and of himself. Anyone who passed by the room from the other side of the closed door would wonder if total war had broken out inside.

The sounds of all this commotion perked up Alexander's ears as he made his way towards the dining hall. He had been delayed going to get something to eat this morning, and hoped there was still some food left for him. Little did he know.

Stepping into the room, he froze... and so did everyone else.

One last tomato, midway across the room, hit the wall and slowly slipped down its surface to the floor, joining the rest of the mess already there.

The silence could be cut with a saber.

Before him was his most esteemed Generals, the men who exemplified mature leadership and to whom he entrusted control of his entire army; an example to all his kingdom.

What he saw, though, was grown men covered from head to toe in food, dripping on the floor, and looking like someone caught them with their hands in a treasure chest.

"What in Hades is going on here?" he bellowed. "Are you grown men or are you three year olds?"

Eyes shifted from one face to another, tongues in cheeks, and all in silent agreement.

Alexander did not have time to duck for cover before he was hit from all sides by flying, multi-colored and savory food items. His clean white chiton was soon a mosaic canvas of colors, enough to equal the finest painter of the time.

Holding his hands up in total surrender, the attack ceased and the room became eerily silent again.

Soon, though, a snicker was heard. Alexander looked to see where it came from. Hephaestion was using all of the self-control he could muster to not lose it completely.

On seeing that Alexander didn't attempt to harm or kill Hephaestion, the others let out their own snickers. Which soon turned into giggles, and then, side-splitting laughter.

Alexander, seeing the situation was now beyond control, shrugged and went to sit next to Hephaestion at the table. As he sat down, a tomato was slid on his seat under him and it smashed as he sat. After the initial shock, he started to laugh aloud, and was soon joined by everyone else.

"I do believe you have suffered your first defeat, Great Alexander," his companion smirked. "I must say, you are taking it very well."

Alexander smiled at Hephaestion and nodded, putting his arm around his shoulder and tenderly dropping a raw egg down the back of his chiton and patting him firmly to break the shell.

"Don't count me out yet," drawled Alexander, "the battle has just begun."

Even the King of the known world can turn into a three year old again.


End file.
